


Afterkill

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternative Universe - Mafia, Blood, Blow Jobs, Comfort Sex, M/M, Nonbinary Character, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 23:22:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6446347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a kill, Lafayette comes home wounded.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afterkill

There was blood dripping on the floor.

Lafayette cursed under their breath, lifting their shirt to see and—indeed, there was a wound. They had probably missed it due to adrenaline but now that they were safe at home, they were starting to feel the shift of broken skin and bleeding muscles. For a moment, Lafayette merely let their head rest against the wall, sighing deeply. It’d been a poorly done job, an assassination that took too long because the woman begged and they saw someone innocent—until she reached for the knife, of course.

  
They frowned, pressed a hand against the wound and made their way to the kitchen of the massive mansion. They did not wish to wake anyone, lest they tell Hercules and he worried unnecessarily, so they walked barefoot through the silent house until they could retrieve the first aid kit beneath the table, sitting on top of it to see the wound better.

  
It was a stab wound: not deep, but not shallow, right beside their ribs. Lafayette took care of it carefully, lips pressed together as they found the curved needle. There was blood dripping on the table, to the floor. For some reason, when Lafayette looked at their hands, they expected them to be completely covered in blood.

They spent a moment looking at their palms, the left one clean and the right one dripping. They were left-handed.

“Laf?”

They cursed, once more, under their breath in French and looked up to see Hercules with his hand still on the expensive wooden door. His eyes were trained on their wound, back tense—Lafayette managed to smile at him.

“I did not want to wake you, mon chou,” they sighed, shifting as Hercules came to stand beside them to inspect the stab, fingers touching delicately at the raw flesh. Lafayette couldn’t hold back the hiss. “Careful, s’il vous plait.”

“Who did this to you?” Hercules grasped the needle from their hand, but not before dropping a kiss on their bare shoulder, the worry covering his utter fury. “Are they alive?”

“No, I killed her,” Lafayette sighed when Hercules dropped another kiss, this time on their jaw. They lifted a hand and placed it on the side of his neck, warm and familiar as the needle dug into their flesh. “I snapped her neck. She wouldn’t stop screaming.”

“Good,” Hercules scowled, and Lafayette watched him as he sewed them back together.

When he was done, he was quick to clean the needle and put everything back where it belonged. Lafayette watched him, slightly dizzy from the blood loss, and when he was finished cleaning up, Hercules stepped between their legs, placing each hand on the outside of their thighs. Very, very softly, he let his forehead rest on their collarbones, making Lafayette instantly bury their fingers on his hair.

“You were a bit late,” he mumbled.

“Désolé, mon chér,” Lafayette sighed. “She was affiliated with André, she had to go as soon as she could.”

“Ah,” Hercules looked up. “So it was you who took the job.”

“I hadn’t taken a job in a long time,” they grinned a little when Hercules grasped their wrists and pinned them to the table, their left hand sliding a little against the blood still pooled there. “And I can’t stay all day here, cooped up, Hercules.”

The man ignored them, dropping kisses across their collarbones, down their chest, running his tongue through the defined abs they sported, nibbling on their navel. Lafayette sighed softly, still lightheaded from the blood loss and the recent kill, letting their body relax. The pain on their side was now dull, not so sharp—not when Hercules was expertly mouthing the front of their pants, popping the button open with his tongue and using his teeth to slide the zipper. Another sigh bubbled out of Lafayette, almost like a hiccup.

“You should always stay here,” even though he whispered, his voice was deep and it reverberated in the large kitchen, the cathedral ceiling looking almost like clouds when Lafayette let their head drop back against their shoulder blades, humming.

“Should I?” they questioned airily as they felt their pants sliding down their knees along with their underwear.

“Yes,” his breath was now on their cock, and sighs kept tumbling out of their mouth. Very carefully, delicately, Hercules placed a hand on their chest and pushed until they were lying down on the table, comfortable. “You should stay here—stay in our bedroom, in our bed. Always ready for when I come back. No more blood for you, just the feel of feather pillows and the most exquisite fruits.”

“It sounds wonderful, cher,” they smiled, shutting their eyes and just enjoying the way Hercules’ lips brushed against the head of their cock as he spoke. “But you spoil me too much—”

“I love to spoil you,” with that, he ran his tongue through the head, and Lafayette sucked air in harshly, their side pinching a little. “I love to pamper you, my sweet, sweet baby girl.”

“Hercules,” they moaned, needy.

Hercules ignored Lafayette’s pleads, licking from base to tip only once before suckling on the head very lightly and gracing his lower teeth against hot flesh—just a brush, but they keened loudly, the cathedral ceiling echoing the sound through the kitchen. Hercules thought of the maids, of the cook and just everyone who worked under the room of this house and grinned against Lafayette’s hardness, laughing a little.

“I want them all to hear you,” he told them, Lafayette’s nails dragging against the wood when his hand fisted the base of their dick. “Don’t hold back, my lovely fifille.”

At the name, Lafayette’s moan cut off by a very loud swallow and their cock twitched, knees pressing against Hercules’ temples, trembling. Satisfied with the reaction it brought, Hercules prepared himself for a second before swallowing Lafayette down until they hit the back of his throat—then he swallowed.

“Ah!” Lafayette grasped with their left hand a fistful of Hercules’ hair, but he was quick to take their wrist, squeezing in warning before he pulled away to gather air into his lungs. “My love, please, please, don’t stop, don’t—”

“Let me take care of you,” Hercules straightened his back, moving to lay kisses on their lips, the lower one slightly puffy, surely from biting. “You’ve been hurt, you have a wound, just relax and let me make you feel good…”

“But—” they whined, high-pitched and desperate, as Hercules gave a tug at their cock, grinning against their mouth. “Mmmmm!”

“Shh,” Hercules bit their ear and kissed them softly one last time before he was hunching over again, taking their length into his mouth and slowly bobbing his head in time with his hand.

Lafayette was not moaning anymore—they just kept making these little noises, mmm’s and ahh’s, curling their body a little. Hercules pushed his free hand into their chest to press them against the wood of the table once more so they wouldn’t worsen their wound, and each time he would pull away from their cock, enclose his lips around the tip, tongue the slit and then take them all the way in.

It wasn’t that Lafayette was small in size—not at all. No, it had to do with the size of Hercules’ mouth, how wide it was and how he could perfectly engulf their cock in a single swallow—which he did. Holding there, his throat fluttering, his lungs bursting until he pulled away to take a breath and Lafayette chose that very moment to come.

They were loud—over-the-top loud, unlike any other time he’d blown them. It echoed in the kitchen, and probably throughout the whole manor, but Hercules could only focus on the feeling of their come dripping down his face into the floor, right on one of the puddles of blood. He was about to lick it away when Lafayette scrambled to grasp his face, running their tongue through his cheek, his brow, his chin, making him moan.

“Let me suck you, mon cher,” Lafayette pleaded, and in their tongue Hercules could taste their come and the desperate need to please. “Please,please, please, s’il vous plait!”

“That’s for another day,” Hercules caught their lips in a deep kiss, and merely grasped Laf’s wrist to press it against the front of his pants, rocking once, twice against it before climaxing quickly with a little groan of satisfaction. “You… should be—fuck, resting in bed.”

“It doesn’t hurt, my love,” Lafayette kept kissing him, sucking on his tongue, hand still pushing against his softening cock.

But he pulled away, pressing both their foreheads together. Lafayette had flushed cheeks, was panting and looked desperate even after having such an orgasm. Hercules chuckled.

“Let’s go to bed,” he helped them up, and when they winced he made a mental note to get the name of the woman who had stabbed Lafayette and kill her entire family. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

“A stab feeling better in the morning?” they grinned before throwing their head back and laughing. “Ah, you’re so funny sometimes, Hercules, amour.”

“I try my best,” he pressed his hand against the small of their back, leading them out of the kitchen.

The next morning, the blood had been cleaned away.

 


End file.
